


Mis-Step Prince

by martialartist816



Series: Misadventures of a Prince and His Knight [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Drabble, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, calren - Freeform, playful banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 19:05:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16435118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martialartist816/pseuds/martialartist816
Summary: Callum doesn't know how to dance. Soren remedies that.





	Mis-Step Prince

Soren finds Callum in the courtyard, hunched over his sketchbook. He grins wickedly. There’s no way he could pass up an opportunity that presented itself to him like that.

He sneaks around, using the trees as cover. Callum, oblivious to the world, sees nothing. Once Soren is planted right behind the prince, he grabs his shoulders and roars like a dragon.

Callum yelps, his back going rigid. The pencil flies out of his hand and clatters to the stone by his feet. His shock dissipates immediately when he recognizes whose cackling laughter is coming from behind, and he turns around to glare at the knight.

“Soren,” Callum admonishes. He bends down to pick up his lost pencil and groans when he sees what happened on the page. “Ugh, look what you made me do to my drawing.”

When Soren manages to get his laughs down to a few chuckles, he leans over Callum’s shoulder and sees a harsh, jagged line racing across and off the page from when he’d gotten scared. Underneath the fat line was a rather impressive and intricate sketch of the courtyard in front of them. Not for the first time Soren thinks to himself that it’s really cool that Callum can draw so well.

“Not my fault your reaction to getting scared is to jerk your arms around.” Soren steps over the stone bench to sit down, elbows on his knees. “You’d be much tougher if you tried harder to follow knight training.”

Callum searches his pocket and pulls out a rubber. “I told you, I’m just not cut out for that kind of macho lifestyle like you,” he grumbles, trying very delicately to erase the mistake around his drawing.

“Aw, you think I’m macho?” Soren ruffles Callum’s hair, earning him even more dissatisfied noises.

Callum ignores the question, so that’s definitely a yes.

“Besides, knowing how to be strong and brave _should_ be your thing, Future King. Hence why I’m training you. Or trying to, at least.”

Callum just shrugs. “Not all kings have to be warriors. I could be like, a diplomatic king instead. Besides, I’ll have you around to protect me.” He gives Soren a cheesy grin.

“It’s still a good skill to have in your back pocket for emergencies.”

“I guess,” Callum says, and it’s clear that he thinks the conversation is over. Soren smiles deviously again and pats Callum solidly on the back.

“And speaking of emergencies,” Callum looks up from his book at that, eyebrows drawn together in curiosity, “your birthday ball is coming up in a few days.”

“Oh. That.” Callum wants to avoid the subject, but Soren won’t allow that. “What about it?”

“Dancing is another skill every king should know. Warrior or diplomatic or otherwise.”

The suggestion clicks instantly in Callum’s head, which he shakes vehemently. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.” Soren stands and hauls Callum up with both hands.

“I am _not_ dancing at my party.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” Soren says, dragging Callum back into the castle. “King’s orders.”

“You don’t sound very sorry,” Callum points out.

“Like I would miss the chance to see the step-prince dancing his heart out. Or at least trying to.” Soren throws a smirk at him. Callum’s shoulders draw up, and he looks away shyly, still holding onto Soren’s hand as he’s led to the empty ballroom.

“So I’m guessing it’s common knowledge around here that I never learned how to dance,” he says once the two massive doors to the room are closed and they’re left in the big space with an orange sunset burning through the tall windows.

“Your dad told me that you can’t follow a beat to save your life, although he said it in nicer words.”

Callum deflates. “It’s true, unfortunately. That’s why Ezran loves to see me do the jerkface dance. He says my lack of coordination is ‘exactly why it’s so successful’.”

“The what now?”

“Nothing,” Callum is quick to dismiss. Soren puts a bookmark in the jerkface dance conversation for next time because that sounds like something he would _love_ to see. “So… did the king ask you to teach me?”

“Yes and no.” Soren looks off to the side with a shrug. “He asked me to ‘Please make sure Callum can participate in at least one dance for his birthday.’ He probably assumed I’d tell Claudia to teach you, but I’m not that cruel. I know there wouldn’t be much dancing involved if she was the one to teach you.”

Callum’s face burns bright red, and he balls his hands into fists. “Hey!” he protests pathetically.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.” Soren swoops in and positions Callum’s arms to properly hold his dance partner. Callum is as pliant as a puppet, and Soren’s left hand settles on the small of his back. “Literally,” he adds with a snort.

Callum is still blushing with Soren begins moving them in easy circles. The prince’s head hangs down as he watches their feet, doing his absolute best to not step on Soren in the process. But he isn’t that lucky, and he mumbles quiet apologies every time he accidentally kicks Soren. The king wasn’t kidding about Callum’s inability to follow a steady beat.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Soren says lightly.

Callum raises his head to look at him, pouting. Whether or not it’s on purpose, Soren finds it unbearably cute. “I can’t not think.”

“All you have to do is follow my movements. Think about it as sword fighting, when you mirror your opponent in every stride.”

“That’s a terrible comparison,” Callum deadpans. “I’m even worse at sword fighting than at dancing.”

“I’d say it was the other way around.”

“There isn’t even any music playing.”

“I could sing for you, if you’d like.”

“I would not like.”

He’s still pouting, and Soren is hoping the affection he feels isn’t plastered all over his face.

“So hurtful. Have you ever even heard me sing?” Soren raises an eyebrow at him.

“I have,” Callum confirms, and his answer catches the knight off guard. Soren accidentally bumps into the prince.

“When?” he asks.

“I don’t know how long ago.” Callum shrugs. “Maybe a few months? I was dropping something off for Claudia. You were in the bath.”

Soren’s face burns. Callum looks at him with a big smile, a hint of a tease in there but he’d never blatantly show it.

“Oh,” Soren says intelligently. He absolutely does _not_ let his mind wander to the possibility of Callum slipping into the bathroom and submerging himself into the warm, soapy bathwater with Soren on a slow morning. But to hell with it. His cheeks are already red, anyway.

“And let me tell you,” Callum goes on, gloating in that gentle way of his, “opera is not your style. But I wouldn’t worry about it too much. You already have your good looks and your fighting skills. Being able to sing would just launch you into triple-threat territory and make you irresistible.”

“You think I have good looks?” Now it’s Soren’s turn to smirk and Callum’s to blush. He pulls the prince closer as they slowly spin around the empty ballroom. Callum’s hand tightens around his.

“I might have said that,” he says, voice losing its confidence from a second ago.

“You _have_ said that,” Soren reminds him.

“If you can forget about that, I can forget about your attempt at _Lover of the Moon_ for an audience of no one. Deal?”

“Deal,” Soren agrees, knowing full well that neither of them will forget a thing and use the information as sabotage somewhere in the near future.

Callum seems to know it too, judging by the easy smile on his face and his refusal to look Soren in the eye.

“And by the way, Callum.”

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t missed a step in a while.”

That apparently breaks the spell because the prince immediately looks down at their feet as if he needs to see for himself, effectively throwing off his rhythm. Callum’s shoe collides with Soren’s shin, and he chirps out a quick, embarrassed apology.

“I was doing so well,” Callum says with a groan. He leans forward in defeat and rests his forehead on Soren’s chest. Soren stops dancing to stare at the top of his head.

“Well, now you know that it’s not as hard as you think,” he offers. The birthday ball isn’t for another few days, so Soren has faith that Callum can achieve a simple waltz if he really wants to.

Callum’s response is another groan. Soren rolls his eyes with a smile and settles his hands on Callum’s waist. He uses the grip to hoist him up, then settles Callum’s toes right on top of his own. The new position comes as a bit of a surprise, and the prince’s natural lack of balance has him throwing his arms around Soren’s neck to stay upright.

“What is this?” Callum asks with mild apprehension.

“Practice,” Soren says.

With his arms still around Callum, Soren begins the slow dance again. He carries Callum around the room like that, humming a simple tune that doesn’t resemble opera at all. Callum gets used to it quickly--Soren can tell by the way his body relaxes--but doesn’t release his grip from around Soren’s neck.

They don’t stop until after the sun goes down.

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi on tumblr](http://regiaam.tumblr.com/)


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